


{damage control}

by toskliviydays



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: ''it's complicated'' relationship button, Character Death, M/M, actually idk if i go over them much in this one LMAO there is just, agender mack, i dont know what to say about this piece tbh except it's fucken eaten me alive, queer headcanons, so much that i have for these kids, trans man brodie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toskliviydays/pseuds/toskliviydays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's nothing but time and a face that you lose / i chose to feel it and you couldn't choose / i'll write you a postcard / i'll send you the news / from a house down the road from real love</p>
            </blockquote>





	{damage control}

**Author's Note:**

> i have a whole headcanon universe that fleshes out the characterizations of the three fires and brodie, and this is sort of an au of that, though much of it-- of brodie and tabitha's unhealthy relationship and lack of communication-- is the same. any other fics i've written for them tie directly into that universe. as you can see, i feel very passionately about these fuck-ups.
> 
> i wrote this fic a long time ago as a sort of explanation, so it's pretty heavy? mostly i'm just sooo into talking about theses kids with anyone who would like me to, or even to take prompts, since the fandom for this group is STARTLINGLY small. you can find me at mecchaureshii.tumblr.com and my cometshipping playlist for this au (lmao) at http://8tracks.com/mecchaureshii/damage-control

After the duties of the day, Tabitha and Courtney walked side by side on their way to the administrative break room, a companionable silence stretching between them as they thought on their tasks both for the evening and the following day.

Something seemed to be on Courtney’s mind, however, and it was not long before she was itching to speak, glancing conspicuously at Tabitha’s face every few moments to gauge whether or not he was ready to talk. She’d learned on many occasions that, when pressed to civility so shortly after a particularly stressful day, Tabitha blew up, regardless of who it was that scratched his boundaries. He wasn’t tense by any means, but it was habit by now, and it never hurt to be cautious; Tabitha often hated himself for the outbursts more than whoever it was that had provoked him.

Eventually Tabitha sighed, quirking a brow at the woman beside him. “ _Yes_?”

“Are you meeting with Brodie later?”

The words gushed out of Courtney without hesitation, and Tabitha regarded her with surprise, heat rising to his face in spite of himself. “What?  _Maybe_. Why?”

She laughed, popping the gum in her mouth with self-satisfied glee. “You didn’t even yell at Maurice today for being late to roll call.  _Something’s_  got you excited.”

“He’s been around long enough to know that being late means shit jobs, and that’s his own damn fault. I’m not his mom,” Tabitha groused, stuffing his hands deep into the fabric of his pockets. “Besides, I’d say I was more happy that the bastard was  _missing_  than anything.”

Courtney hummed to herself, the air skittering forth with quiet laughter. Tabitha was so easy to read, she thought, once one knew his language. It was painfully endearing to her, but surely no one was so well versed in his complicated linguistics than Brodie— had to be, to get past his defenses like that, so swiftly and so wholly.

“I wish I had someone like that,” she mused quietly. “I bet it’s nice.”

Tabitha blinked, wrinkling his nose. “What?  _Maurice_?”

“No, you idiot! Like Brodie!”

“Oh.” He watched his friend out of the corner of his eye, walking slowly, contemplatively, toward the break room. “… I thought you said you were gonna go after Mack?”

It was then her turn to flush with color, the woman smiling derisively at the florescent lights overhead. “Well, I  _was_. Or I did. We talked for like three hours one night about it and we decided that I probably didn’t feel as romantically as I thought.” Frowning, Courtney nipped at her gum for a moment before continuing. “I probably feel the same way you do.”

Mack had been their heart of hearts for as long as their trio had been thrown together. Tabitha, Courtney, they were most suited to administrative business; creatures of the field as they were, Tabitha was the one who stayed up late finishing paperwork for missions and budgetary receipts— was the grunt-working brute of the trio for all else as well, though he did not resent it— and Courtney was self-important enough to revel in ordering underlings around, flitting like a Swellow across the region insinuating half-truths and counter propaganda to the media conglomerate that Archie had erected atop Hoenn’s infrastructure. That was fine and well, and they were happy to do their jobs— they’d worked a long time to get there— but Mack had always been different, both in the way _they_ did their job— on reserve, on request, as a specialty— and in who they were.

For one, they were a genius, a master of illusions, and it was no wonder they got more done in the field than their partners. For another, they were proudly nonbinary, something that had baffled the other administrators from the moment they’d met. For Tabitha it had been strange but easy enough to understand; he’d been up close and personal with the plentiful faces of humanity and it wasn’t the first time his understanding of people had been challenged. For Courtney, however, who had only ever known the world in black and white dichotomies— who herself had been confused and offended that such a flirty teenager as Tabitha would decline her advances when she’d helped him climb in rank upon his arrival— always guiltily held onto the belief that Mack was but another challenge to overcome. But if nothing else, Courtney was always adamant to learn what she did not immediately understand, even if it caused much confusion along the way.

Two bodies of gutter filth connected to a shining light of competence, they were already too full in each others’ hearts to be anything else. But still, Courtney seemed a bit put out by the lost romantic chance.

Tabitha took the opportunity to bump lightly against Courtney’s shoulder, grabbing her attention. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m no better. The first time Brodie took me out on a date, I didn’t realize that's what it was until he kissed me halfway back. So we’re both pretty stupid, I guess.“

Startled by the information— Tabitha was usually too embarrassed to divulge anything about his relationship— Courtney tried in vain to contain her girlish giggles. ”I— that’s— pfft. That’s adorable.”

“It’s  _bullshit_  is what it is!”

“No no,” Courtney corrected, reaching forward to open the door with her access key. Tabitha paused, apparently surprised that they’d already made it to their destination. “What’s bullshit is how much he loves you. To be honest, I’m jealous.” The door opened with a whoosh of mechanical sounds, and she stepped in, darting immediately to the coffee machine. “It’s better than anything anyone else in this shithole will see.”

Tabitha furrowed his brows, moving to sit at the center table and watching his coworker curiously. That tone of voice— she never got like that. Courtney was not a brooding sort. If she was angry at the universe, she showed it, and she made peace with it; she did not make passive aggressive comments and hope that her friend would piece her meaning together.  _Tabitha_  wasn’t the sort for word games.

He waited, allowing the sound of the coffee machine to fill the quiet room. It was not until Courtney sat opposite of him, mug of hot coffee clasped tightly in her small hands, that he leaned forward and stared hard into her eyes. He should have known she was getting to something when she’d first been so shifty in the hall— she never cared to tease him about his relationship unless it offended her on some level, and he knew this couldn’t be about Mack. “So tell me, babe— what’s up?”

Courtney stared down into the liquid of her drink as if searching for words. She was awful at asking for help or even talking about her thoughts, and Tabitha realized that whatever this was, it had clearly been eating at her for months, if not longer.

“I wonder what will happen to us,” she said eventually, voice quiet and subdued. “Not just to you and me and Mack, but, like,  _everyone_. Magma’s not gonna be around forever, and those of us that ever joined because we thought we could  _change_  something don’t believe that anymore. But we just can’t bare to leave home, I think, and it’s… I… I’m not sure what we’re even doing.”

Tabitha cast his eyes downward, studying the coffee-stained tabletop beneath him. Courtney was right, of course— she always was— but the thought made his heart seize. What kept Maxie going? His feud with Archie, surely, a personal vendetta and unquenchable lust for power that was entirely independent of the goals initially set by Team Magma. Tabitha had known Maxie earlier on, though, had known the man when he possessed an honest regard for the world, a desire to make it better by any means necessary. Change did not come easily, after all, but something had changed in  _him_ , and he was no longer the leader that Tabitha had willingly followed, the confident wing he had scurried under as a young teen. 

The Admins, for their part, stayed for each other, and the vast majority of the rest simply had nowhere else to go. Hoenn was small, compared to other regions— it was poor. Tabitha understood that, had experienced it intimately, and it was a tragedy of circumstance that made these pseudo criminals what they were. As much as Tabitha longed to change it, there was little he could do.

He’d once convinced himself that Magma’s plans would be a remedy, new and fertile land providing the economic boost to propel Hoenn’s poor into the middle class, but he knew now that the idea was childish and foolhardy. The least likely organization to do any good for the region, perhaps, was the very one he had devoted his life to.

“Do you want to leave?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” The conflict in Courtney’s eyes was a precursor to tragedy, Tabitha thought. She was the most decisive and composed person he knew, even when he thought she was being an idiot.

“Where’d we go, you think, if we did?” The question was a desperate rhetoric, shared emphatically between two who were closer than siblings, a synthetic sort of family bound by necessity and hard-earned affection. In a way, both adults were still children, grown too quickly and without proper direction. The blind leading the blind.

“You know how Maxie is— he’d rather knock over his own bishop and knight than lose them, and he’d convince himself that we were defecting to Aqua,” Courtney reasoned. ”He’s paranoid, even more so now.”

Tabitha nodded, sitting up straight in his chair and tucking his hands in his lap. “No problem there— I know the Hoenn underground like the back of my hand. You and Mack do too, I think, even if it’s been a while.”

“But we shouldn’t have to  _hide_ , Tabitha. That’s bullshit.” She stared across the table beseechingly, so used to looking to Tabitha for answers.  _He_  was always the one who’d make the game plan with Maxie— she only ever agreed or disagreed, acting as the final say, the voice of reason. She had no idea how to deal with this problem alone, but she feared that she wouldn’t be able to handle it with the help of her friends, either. Mack would follow them wherever they went, but it was no use if they got each other killed.

He was at a loss for what to say. It  _was_  bullshit, but what was ever fair to people like them? He flexed his fingers, deliberating whether or not he should try to comfort his friend. After a moment, he smoothed his palms against his thighs, smothering the impulse. Upset as she was, Courtney was too proud to accept coddling, and what she sought were answers, not kind words. All the same, he couldn’t let her think like this. There was no safe way out of Magma— not now, not as high up as they were, not when they were poised for game day. Courtney’s thoughts, however justified, were poisonous, and he wouldn’t stand to have her endangering herself for an idle dream. They’d come too far for that.

“We’re not trapped, Courtney.” He spoke slowly, deliberately. “We could find a way out if we wanted to, but why should we? This is our home. It’s our  _life_. No reason to throw all that away; not when you know there’s no place in the world for us anymore. We’re better off here.”

He could almost believe his own words.

The other Admin sighed, her tight grip on the coffee mug in her hands slipping, eyes closing. She almost did, too.

“I guess you’re right,” she said. “I just—” she faltered somewhat, looking at her hands helplessly. “I wish you weren’t. I thought I’d make a better life for myself than this.”

In all honesty, so too had Tabitha. He’d thought he’d climb to the heavens as a child, but here, inlaid in the crust of a volcanic mountain, was likely the closest he was ever going to get. He’d made peace with that. Magma— his family here—  _Brodie_ — they were all he needed, really, and he never would have even gotten into Team Magma if it weren’t for the woman across from him. Despite all its setbacks, he still counted this as a blessing.

He stood, moving around the table to lay a chaste kiss on his friend’s cheek, inspiring in her a weary but devilish grin. “And what’s that for?”

“I was thinking, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” It was the best way he could thank her, really.

She laughed, taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee. “You’d probably be dead.”

And it was true.

Tabitha patted her head patronizingly, quickly retreating from the room as she swiped uselessly at him. “I’m off, babe— don’t stay up all night watching shit movies, a’ight?”

“Use protection!” she called, a purposeful retaliation. “Make him  _scream_!”

Tabitha scowled, blushing violently as the door closed.

______________________________________________________________

“ _Waaah, I never wake up on time and I’m always given the West entrance at roll call! Look at my ear— I think it’s starting to melt off, oh my god, that much exposure has got to be bad for you!_ ”

The mournful outcry was met with a cacophony of laughter, broken only by a single, whining voice— the same that had just spoken, but farther away.

“Aww, come on, Brodie, lay off! Someone stole my alarm clock last week, and my ear really  _is_  starting to look weird.”

The thief— smirking, the center of attention like a good-natured, high school  _jerk_ — walked over and patted the unfortunate young grunt on the back. “Then buy a new one and put your lotion to better use than keeping  _company_.” This comment elicited another round of laughter and Maurice flushed violently, ducking out from under Brodie’s pseudo-affectionate grip.

“Sh-shut up!! I’ll tell Courtney you’re out of uniform again!”

And indeed he was, but Brodie could only snort, clearly amused. “And what does she care?  _Tabitha’s_  my commander.”

The other grunts closed in on Maurice, teasing their friend and laughing all the while. Brodie took the opportunity— one he’d been waiting for since he made the mistake of coming into the lounge— to slip away, sliding into the hallway and making his way deep into the labyrinthine tunnels. He was distracted— often was, when he wandered like this— and while this gave him an excuse to skip out on his “duties,” it also took hold of his mind in earnest. He’d been entertaining the thoughts for weeks, but only now had he decided it pertinent to act on them.

As  _disgusting_  as it was to admit— he grinned— he loved Tabitha. Perhaps it was a bit hasty, but he knew Tabitha, certainly knew himself, and they were  _good_ for each other; how funny was that from two criminals? He felt like a teenager again— not a thief, not a man, not a disguise but  _him_ — all fluttery and aching and wanting of something more than sex or a mind game or two. No, he— aha— he wanted to make a  _life_  with Tabitha, to take him away from this lackluster organization that had disappointed him and stabbed a stake of resentment deep into his heart, trapping him to the ground; wanted to find a house, to make a home, to discover all the secret crannies of the commander than even now eluded him. He wanted to watch Tabitha train, wanted to spend holidays with him, to hide dumb and obnoxious trinkets in his pillows and wake him up by tickling his feet, only to hide until the coffee on the bedside table placated him and made him smile.

Brodie smacked his face, hiding the grand, somewhat derisive grin that split it. This wasn’t like him, but, then again, it  _was_. Tabitha had brought this out in him— this romantic urge, some soft affection— and no treasure he’d ever stolen or gold he’d ever been payed could possibly compere to the liquid sunlight illuminating his veins. Brodie was willing to do anything to keep this foreign thing with him.

He stopped in his tracks, covering his mouth and looking down the hall— darkened by the lack of light— and thought. Tabitha was trapped here, locked in shackles and chains of responsibility and obligation that he was too honorable to break, and the only way he would give up on this job that he hated so passionately was if the job itself no longer existed. Both Maxie and Archie were ruthless men— it was part of what had drawn Brodie to them— and they would not stand to lose an officer, to lose a pawn, would not leave room for defection to the other side. 

From the very beginning, this had been Brodie’s job. Not to commit some shady eradication, though it would surely not be his first, but to report to Archie from the inside with information regarding Magma’s plans and inner workings. He didn’t do it because he felt strongly for either Team— Brodie felt strongly about very little besides his own craft— but because it was easy money for very little work and there was something very titillating about being able to watch this feud from the inside. So much was lost on the Hoenn public, thanks very much to Archie’s work from the radio tower, and however petty this battle seemed, it was like watching a bad soap opera. Brodie loved it. But his plan for easy manipulation of the administrators had backfired.

The original intention was to seduce Courtney and gain her trust; as much should not have been very hard, as it was his understanding that she was vapidly flirtatious. But she’d brushed him off again and again as an obnoxious, arrogant underling not worth her time regardless of Maxie’s praise of his skills as a thief. It was frustrating, but he had other ways. So he tried; Maxie, who was wholly distrustful, and  _Mack,_  who all the while would not stop glaring at him like he was some insidious bug come to topple Magma from its roots. Which wasn’t too far off the mark, but  _still_ ; Brodie did not think he warranted so much  _distrust_  and  _hatred_. The more he tried to strike up a good rapport with Mack, the more he was shut away, and so he was almost ready to give up. But then something very startling occurred to him: his personal commander, the one who did nothing but yell and intimidate and, well,  _administrate_ , was so very,  _very_  gay. Which wouldn’t be very remarkable in and of itself if Brodie couldn’t read the fact he’d been alone for  _years_  in the ostentatious way he held himself. Brodie was indiscriminate of all identities and orientations— mostly because he didn’t honestly care who or what he did for a job— but there was something almost too easy about the way Tabitha fell for him, something too earnest from a man who clearly spent his life shutting other people away. It was kind of pathetic, actually, and Brodie had fun playing him… but slowly, cruelly— with all the viscous thoroughness of his most artful poisons—  the masks he pretended to cast off for Tabitha became real, and he felt himself being as honestly laid bare as he’d ever been before. It scared him. But he loved it.

So often Tabitha lamented his place in Team Magma, the years he’d spent fully dedicated to Maxie rewarded only by the sight of his dreams cast farther and farther into the horizon. Brodie always listened, silent, his fingers combing placatingly through the other man’s hair, but it was clear enough to him that regardless of Tabitha’s feelings of futility, he would not leave the life he had created for himself.

So he simply needed to eradicate the very job Tabitha hated so much.

The only thing to worry about was how Tabitha would react, if he would accept such a gift of freedom when he held steadfast to ideals that even he acknowledged to be outdated.

After a moment, Brodie laughed, turning and returning to the main base. He wasn’t worried. Tabitha would be angry that he’d taken it upon himself, but of course he would come! There was nothing for Tabitha here, but together… there was plenty. 

He could already feel the plans formulating in his head, see the vials, the powders, everything he would need. He was excited! What a wonderful surprise. The moment he had everything prepared, he’d visit Tabitha as intended.

* * *

The purple-haired man sat in his room, flipping through reports and marking what he needed to in red. He could feel his back beginning to cramp, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind all the much— after all, he’d grown used to Brodie bursting into his room when he was most productive, had come even to expect it. In some ways, he felt like a child— waiting for this otherworldly companion to slip in when no one was looking and sweep him off his feet— but he tried to quell the thought. He might get too embarrassed otherwise.

Just as Tabitha began to lose hope in a late night tryst, the quiet, tell-tale click of a lock sliding into place shattered the silence of the room, and Tabitha jumped. 

Brodie carded his fingers through his own thick hair, watching Tabitha with haughty confidence, the Spearow eyeing its prey. Tabitha scoffed of course— what an arrogant little  _shit_ — but all the same his breath caught, a warmth rising within him.

“I’ve got a surpriiise for you, darling,” Brodie cooed, taking Tabitha into his arms as the other man stood and came to him. Tabitha placed his hands firmly on the other man’s hips, tilting his head up to brush a light kiss at the edge of Brodie’s mouth. “Is that right? Is it some stolen treasure, then? Some plundered booty?”

Brodie’s eyebrows shot up, an honest grin splitting his face as laughter scuttled past his lips. Sometimes he forgot that the commander had such a sense of humor. “Pffftahah, oh my God. I’ll deliver any plundering you like, but that wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Tabitha laughed, kissing Brodie’s nose. “That’s a damn shame. Shelly really turned me on to the whole pirate gig.”

“ _Dude_.”

Tabitha captured Brodie’s lips with his, taking aggressive initiative, but it was a predictably short time before the thief came to his senses and dominated the contact. He pulled Tabitha close by the small of his back, deepening the kiss with a rising fervor, and led him slowly in the direction of the bed, pausing only a moment as the back of Tabitha’s knees knocking against it. With a nip to Tabitha’s lip, Brodie pushed him down, landing atop the commander and relishing in the sigh that escaped him.

“I missed you today,” Tabitha murmured, adjusting himself under Brodie’s weight. “Didn’t have anyone to yell at. Where’d you scuttle off to?”

Brodie slid his knee in between Tabitha’s legs, intent on shutting the other man up. It wasn’t like him to be so talkative— usually, that was Brodie’s job— but, aha, he really  _must_  have missed Brodie. The thief refrained from laughing, instead rubbing his thigh gently up, rocking himself forward. “I  _told_  you,” he muttered lowly. Tabitha gasped as Brodie moved once more. “It’s a surprise.”

Before Tabitha could voice a protest (customary— he hated surprises, had expressed as much on the many excursions he’d been forced upon), Brodie kissed him again, moving against Tabitha in a way that made him moan, wanton, the annoyances of the day and the anticipation of this time soothing his nerves and electrifying them in turn. The little noises that escaped him drove Brodie on, igniting in him a different sort of passion than had caused him to plan for the future.

Tabitha ran his hands across Brodie’s bound torso, tracing muscle definition and brushing light, teasing touches under the hem of his binder, under his arms, down and down until he was dipping his digits below the elastic of Brodie’s waistband. The thief’s breath hitched, a hollow fluttering overtaking his belly. In retaliation, he tugged on Tabitha’s bottom lip, kissing him shallowly before trailing nips and kisses across his jawline, moving to suckle harshly at the juncture of Tabitha’s neck and shoulder, eliciting quiet noises— unrestrained, entirely  _his_  doing— that made his lips curl against Tabitha’s skin.

As Tabitha began undoing the buttons and hooks at Brodie’s waist, the thief tutted, lifting himself up and smiling roguishly down at his commander. The sight was breathtaking.

“Now now.” Brodie patted Tabitha’s thigh. “Be patient, darling, and move up— I need some room.”

Tabitha dutifully did as he was told, adjusting himself further onto the bed as Brodie crawled after him, the predatory gleam from before once again gracing his eyes. Instead of climbing atop him, however, Brodie stopped at Tabitha’s hips, sending an electrifying shock through Tabitha as he realized his partner’s intentions.

Brodie lathed Tabitha’s navel with his tongue, drawing glyphs of desire along the older man’s torso, pushing the fabric of Tabitha’s shirt higher and higher. It must have been witchcraft, Tabitha thought— a spell. But then he grinned, throwing his head back in amusement at the ridiculous thoughts that Brodie inspired in him.

Tabitha’s cock bumped roughly against Brodie’s throat and the thief growled, glancing up. “Look at me,” he demanded. Tabitha let out a shallow breath, returning his attention to the man at his pelvis. Slowly, being sure to stare directly into Tabitha’s darkening eyes, Brodie unhooked the belt buckle on Tabitha’s hips, dipping his head down to undo the hooks with his teeth.

Tabitha’s hands began to tremble.

Deftly, he was shed of his pants and boxers. Taking special care to not let his hair obstruct the view, Brodie lowered his head, pressing an almost reverent kiss to the tip before taking Tabitha firmly by the knees and spreading them apart. The suddenness of the action surprised Tabitha, and he very nearly retaliated on reflex— but it appeared to him that Brodie was being especially affectionate today, pampering him rather than simply mowing him down.

Brodie dipped his arms beneath Tabitha’s thighs, intertwining with him and splaying his fingers at the junction of the commander’s hipbones to prevent any unnecessary movement. Tabitha might have been insulted at the gesture if he didn’t understand how difficult it was to stay still.

Sending Tabitha an impish look— one that went straight to his arousal, surely— Brodie took Tabitha full in his mouth, adjusting himself around the erection to take it as wholly as possible. Tabitha  _moaned,_  and as Brodie moved— sucking, nudging with his teeth— he remembered again why he loved having Tabitha. As straight-laced and commanding as he attempted to appear outside the bedroom, he was incredibly indulgent and subservient during sex. Brodie could not remember the last time someone had willingly laid themselves so bare to him.

Tabitha tried desperately to move, to clutch Brodie to him, but the thief only swatted his hands away, leaving him with no choice but to lay back and whimper. He fisted his hands in the sheets, toes curling and legs twitching, electric shocks of pleasure shooting through him without any manner of exit.

“G- _od_ , Brodie,  _fuck_ ,” he gasped, and he could feel the lips around his cock twitching into a smirk. He hated the smug bastard— hated his stupid assertive attitude and his stupid pretty face and his  _stupid fucking tongue_ , doing things he forgot were possible. He’d never been on the receiving end of such an act, and suddenly he wondered  _why_. But then his errant thoughts threatened deviation to darker matters.

Noticing Tabitha’s reactions— delicious, prefect,  _just_  as he knew he’d be— begin to die down, Brodie recognized the way Tabitha’s thoughts sometimes wandered during sex, distracting him from the matter at hand. He’d never asked— had assumed it simply to be work, the idiot— but there were creases in the commander’s face that spoke of something deeper, more distressing. Perhaps one day Brodie would find out (of  _course_  he would, he always did, and now his curiosity was piqued), but for now the best he could do was to make sure that the other man couldn’t think at  _all_.

He pressed down hard on Tabitha’s hips with his hands, digging his nails into the man’s skin and sucking hard, tongue running roughly along the vein pulsing on the underside. The commander gasped, scrambling to do something, anything, and locking his legs at the small of Brodie’s back, pulling him close. For a moment, Brodie thought he might gag, his eyes widening in surprise. But, he steeled himself, swallowing around the cock in his mouth and eliciting a heady moan from Tabitha, needy and all-consuming. 

“Brodie,” Tabitha ground out, gritting his teeth.

Not good enough.

He bobbed his head, quickening his pace and drawing back once to pucker his lips over Tabitha’s foreskin. Tabitha twitched his legs and Brodie readjusted his hold on Tabitha’s hips, pulling one arm out from under the man’s thigh to fondle his balls, tugging and massaging throughout the thorough treatment.

Meaningless words and gasping sounds escaped from Tabitha’s mouth, filling the air like white noise. It was not long before he came, biting his lip and furrowing his brow, a deep moan hastily being muffled by a fist pressed hard against his own mouth lest he alert the whole hall of their activities. Brodie gasped, nearly choking on the stream of semen, doing his best to swallow the load but only succeeding in making it dribble down his chin. He pulled away with an obscene pop, coughing once as he moved to sit up, running his hand across his chin and wiping away the residual cum.

Staring up at the ceiling as if thanking a deity he did not believe in, Tabitha laid back against the sheets, panting harshly. Brodie watched him, eyes half-lidded as a smirk blossomed in an expression of self-satisfied adoration. Tabitha let out a long, slow, sigh, and Brodie crawled over him, propping himself up above Tabitha and looking down at him expectantly.

Tabitha’s smile grew, and he leaned up to kiss Brodie deeply, probing his swollen mouth with his.

“Hot,” Brodie whispered.

Tabitha flung his arms around him, swinging a leg over to wrap across the thief and topple him over, rolling them until he landed on top. Before Brodie could even feign a protest, Tabitha was plundering his mouth, a hand running down beneath the man’s loose waistline to slip his fingers into the man’s neglected crotch, wet and slick with arousal. Brodie moaned into his commander’s mouth, grinding into the hand with unbridled impatience.

“What a good boy,” Tabitha whispered into the kiss. “So self-sacrificing.” 

There was a growl above him. “Just shut up and fuckin’ touch me, will you?”

The commander laughed, pressing his smiling face against Brodie’s and reveling in the brief moment of gifted authority.

* * *

In the morning, Tabitha woke to find his bed void of a second occupant, the red sheets tangled but bare. He stared, unseeing, for several long moments, mind blank but for a dim, buzzing confusion.

It was not confusion over how the other man had snuck out. Tabitha might have been a very light, sensitive sleeper, but Brodie was a thief first and foremost— the best in Hoenn— and thieves did not make a living by stirring the restful. No, what confused him was  _why_. He was used to waking to a warm body tangled with his own, light breaths puffing against his skin;, to fighting his way out of the firm, adamantly cuddly grasp of his bed partner who refused to accept “work” as a reasonable excuse to leave.

Perhaps it had something to do with the surprise that Brodie had seemed so excited about. Tabitha frowned, throwing off his blankets and walking lightly, slowly, lethargically to his uniform-filled wardrobe. It felt too early to be getting dressed— his body had adjusted its natural clock to compensate for Brodie’s deterrence— but he could neither return to sleep nor tolerate laying lazily in bed for another hour. He’d make due.

Fumbling for one of the Pokeballs on his belt, which hung from a post on the wall, Tabitha released his Mightyena with a flash of mass-energy transference, greeting the happily stretching feliform with a smile and scratch behind the ears. Mightyena barked, sniffing the air in search of the long-familiar blue-haired trainer and his pink, morphing companion. Even he found the absence abysmally strange.

It was just like that asshole to switch up routine just as they were getting comfortable.

“Should we go find out what sorta trick he’s planning?” Tabitha asked, moving to the door as he buckled his uniform belt. The Mightyena padded eagerly after, obviously complacent with this plan.

The moment Tabitha stepped out into the hall, however, a chilly shiver ran up his spine, unease tightening in his abdomen. Something was wrong here, too. Glancing back to be assured that he was not alone in this observation, Tabitha furrowed his brow, deeply unsettled by the way Mightyena’s hackles rose, tail tucking. This couldn’t be the ‘surprise,’ could it? No. Nothing Brodie did would ever evoke such a reaction from them. He clenched and unclenched his fists, glaring at the bare walls as he made his way in the early morning silence.

Mightyena whimpered and growled in intervals, eyes shifting, ears flat against his head. Wary with an apprehension that had him peering around each barren corner, Tabitha stepped on light feet, feeling as if he were a boy again. This time, however,  _he_ wasn’t the intruder.

As he turned into the hallway of Maxie’s office— a detour taken, mostly, for the sake of surveillance - he inhaled sharply, eyes going wide as he noticed the mahogany doors somewhat ajar. To anyone else, this might not seem at all strange, particularly for the leader of such a large organization, but Tabitha  _knew_  his boss, knew his morning schedule like clockwork. Maxie would never have left his door open, and there should have been no one else there to open it until much later that morning. Anxiety grew like thorny vines over his heart, and though he was tempted to dismiss himself for needlessly jumping to such extreme conclusions, something felt so wrong about this scene that he couldn’t help himself, mind be damned.

With great restraint, he continued forward silently, hushing the Mightyena at his heels and calling upon years of sneaking to creep unnoticed into the room. What he saw there made him stop cold; there had never been an image so incriminating.

There Tabitha was, but it was not  _him_ — sitting on the corner of his boss’ oak desk, looking positively predatory as he stared down at Maxie’s slack body. The redhead was slumped, rigid,  _blue_ — a parlor far more worrying than the almost sickly pale customary of him, and Tabitha (the real one, himself) felt nauseous. He was afraid, almost, to form the thought. But…

“ _Brodie_.”

Not-Tabitha turned to him, a vague look of surprise flashing in his eyes before he grinned, voice a perfect mimicry of Tabitha’s own. “Hey babe. I took care of something for you, see?”

White-hot rage rose within Tabitha, blinding him as he surged forward, the distant sounds of growling Pokemon ricocheting off his ears. Practically leaping over the desk in his haste, Tabitha tackled his disguised friend— partner— _boyfriend_ — to the ground, a vicious snarl tearing from his throat as he took the fabric of the man’s uniform (stolen— he should have noticed that morning) and slammed Brodie to the ground.

“What the  _fuck_  did you do?” he demanded.

Brodie only laughed, his own voice returning to him. “A surprise.  You’re not tied here anymore, right? You can come with me!”

Tabitha was horrified. “You  _killed_  him?”

“Of course. You weren’t going to.”

The commander’s face twitched, his grasp tightening. “Why would I, you piece of shit?!”

Tabitha pulled Brodie toward him, slamming him down once again. Brodie suddenly appeared startled, as if this level of anger were far above whatever the man had calculated, and that thought infuriated Tabitha.  _He was not a job_. And yet, all of this indicated otherwise. He swore he could hear his heart breaking, but maybe that was just the crack of his fist against Brodie’s jaw.

“Y-you wanted out!” Brodie sputtered, quite obviously at a loss. “Now you’re out!”

Tabitha supposed that made sense in some twisted way. He’d made his discontent with Magma (and, by extension, his dreams of good) known to Brodie, but they had been  _idle_  complaints, no intent of some sort of revolution in mind. How had he missed his own hints? Or had he even given any? He had no idea whether to blame himself or be horrified by Brodie’s manipulation, but when it came down to it, what Brodie had done was uncalled for, wrong on so many different levels. Betrayal fueled his anger which surprise had begun to sputter out.

“That’s not what  _out_  means!” He sounded desperate. “You don’t kill an organization at its head, you  _fuckin’ dumbass_. It topples, and people panic, and a hundred petty criminals with nowhere to go lose their goddamn home!”

It was painfully obvious how little Brodie had thought of anyone else.

Tabitha’s hands began to shake, and so he stood, going to his (former) boss and hopelessly, futilely checking the older man’s pulse. He knew it was silent before he even touched his trembling fingers to the rigor mortis skin. “What was it, then?” He felt himself retreating into professionalism, lest he do something rash.

Brodie propped himself up, looking for all the world a kicked puppy. Tabitha had no sympathy for him. After a moment, Brodie looked away, pulling at the edges of his disguise. “Poison in his coffee. He wouldn’t have accepted it from anyone else.”

Of course he wouldn’t  Beside being intent on doing things himself, Maxie’s trust in Tabitha was unwavering, but he understood the lengths to which those such as Archie would go to get him out of the picture. Extents such as hiring a master of disguise to infiltrate the organization and collapse it from within, say. Tabitha tensed.

“Must of been quick.”

“He drinks a lot of coffee.”

Tabitha turned back to Brodie, doing his very best to keep his voice level. “I should kill you for this, y’know. If I were loyal to Maxie, you’d never leave this room.”

“But you aren’t,” Brodie pressed.

“But I  _am_ — more than you seem to think.”

“… You wouldn’t kill me.”

Tabitha was capable of it, but not with Brodie, and that knowledge made him hate himself. He’d been played, he’d been had, he’d been made the  _fool_ , and yet he couldn’t for the life of him do anything to retaliate.

“Mack would,” he said lowly, “And Courtney’d kill them for the opportunity.”

“You wouldn’t allow it.”

The trace of amusement entering Brodie’s tone nearly had Tabitha screaming. Instead, he groaned, tugging at his hair and turning to face away from the thief. They stood there for a moment, in silence. Then: “I’ll give you as long as it takes to find them to get the  _hell_  out of here. This shit ain’t a joke, and you can bet your ass you won’t get away with it.”

He could hear Brodie’s shuffling in the background, drawing near, but it was not until he felt a hand on his that he jerked violently away, hissing as if burned. He glared into Brodie’s eyes, whose ocher depths were a maelstrom of hurt and festering agitation. He was angry, but what right did he have?

“Come with me,” Brodie undertoned. “I did this for you. It’s not some sort of trick.”

His anger was choking him, it seemed. Tabitha had no words, only infuriated dissent, and while he could have said anything to make the thief understand— there has obviously been some colossal miscommunication between them— all he managed to grind out was a single “No.”

Brodie took a deep breath, staring the commander down. He knew that there was no way he could sway Tabitha on such a moral issue, particularly so soon after his grave miscalculation. He’d set himself equal to Maxie and pressed Tabitha’s loyalty, but he’d neglected to realize that the other Magma members might enter the equation at all. If he were to make Tabitha understand, it would not be here; he’d have to give the other man time to let his guilt and desire erode his childish grasp on moral code. He’d stay close.

“Ditto!” he called, pivoting and striding out of the room, arm outstretched to allow the pink blob (previously a Mightyena to hold Tabitha’s own at bay) to morph onto him. Tabitha’s Mightyena lunged after it, nipping threateningly but stopping just short. He could not hurt the two any more than Tabitha could.

As the man left, Mightyena’s growls turned to whimpers, and Tabitha, almost as if in a daze, fall lamentously to the floor, all energy drained of him. He couldn’t quite comprehend the fact that the most important person to him had single handedly ruined his life as he knew it, and he felt like a child— abandoned and lost. It was a familiar feeling, but one he thought he’d left behind years ago. The only difference now was that he had more responsibility than to just himself and a Poochyena.

It was not until Courtney’s sharp yelp and Mack’s rough exclamations of disbelief that Tabitha came to himself and even then it was in a daze.

Damage control.

* * *

In the aftermath of Magma’s downfall, Tabitha saw his very own predictions come to fruition.

The grunts were in a frenzy, and it was all Tabitha could do to keep them calm, to round them up with Courtney and Mack’s help and figure out a course of action. It was a natural disaster none such as which any of them had ever before witnessed, unrivaled even by Groudon and Kyougre’s wrath due to the fact that there was no relief effort, no mourning, no indication that anything  _bad_  had happened to anyone but themselves. Once the world heard news of this, it would be celebrated. Perhaps there was good cause for it, but… they were homeless, directionless, useless. At least here, doing menial upkeep, the petty criminals of Hoenn had something productive to do, their needs met without them butting in the way of functioning society. Now, however, let loose, there was no telling what any of them would do.

Mack offered to put them all under the illusion that nothing had happened, that Maxie was still alive, but Tabitha refused. It could only last so long, and it was unrealistic to think the administrator and his Pokemon could accomplish the feat over such a large group. They were skilled, but attempting it could only led to harm.

Courtney suggested Tabitha just poison them all. If she were anyone else, he would have hit her.

In the end the group was dispersed, quiet recommendations shared to the odd inquisitive grunt. Many of them were not fit to live in the Hoenn underground like the admins had, were not prepared for such a life. Magma fooled them into thinking that it would be easy. Tabitha could have sworn he heard Courtney praying for them. 

Many stayed in the base. It was, after all, their only home, and they lacked the skills to find another. It was only as the three friends left— resigned completely to the unspoken need to move on together— that Tabitha realized the terse and coarse demeanor with which he initially arrived to Magma had softened. Then, he wouldn’t have cared for the fates of these incompetent masses, would have cursed them, would have fought them. Now he only worried, like a harassed father leaving his grown and wholly pathetic children behind. At any other time, Mack would have mocked him for the sentiment, but instead they traveled silently, taking refuge in various cheap motels across Hoenn and fleeing every time they so much as suspected recognition on somebody’s face.

It was to neither Courtney’s nor Mack’s surprise that Tabitha took the matters of their “journey” into his own hands, procuring “free” room and board by unknown means, transferring them through anonymous homes without so much as a word spoken to either friend. It was clear when he made sure they were comfortable to his own expense, and it hurt them to watch, insulted them to know. They were not  _children_ , after all, not younger siblings that needed caring for, but Tabitha was too stubborn and self-important to do anything else. When Mack confronted him about it, the result was only a short scuffle and the loss of Tabitha to the streets for the rest of the night. Predictably, he was home before morning.

Courtney soon figured out, however, the reason behind her friend’s distance, behind his silence. He was in mourning. Of course they all regretted Maxie’s death, but this was for far more than a close colleague— it was for Brodie, the man with whom she knew he’d shared a relationship, who she knew had changed him. For the better, she’d thought then, but now she wasn’t so sure. She wanted desperately to think his intentions had been pure.

Unlike her, Mack ignored Tabitha completely. He knew there was nothing he could do to change the older man, and he was not so deceptive to force him into anything— feared for the repercussions after the stunt so recently pulled. Mack was wholly convinced of Brodie’s betrayal, after all, and the thought of doing the very thing that had seemingly broke his best friend was beyond even he.

Tabitha slept long hours of the day and disappeared in the night, chatting and forcing a genial facade that everybody knew was a terrible lie. It was not until they began moving more frequently, however, that they noticed his increasing paranoia, the extra efforts he took to keep them hidden. They’d thought it simply excessive once; then, they knew it to be precautionary. They were being followed, and if it were by anyone, it would be the only person Tabitha would hate enough to flee from. 

No one was surprise when, one day, they were cornered in a back alley, a figure, strangely cloaked, jumping from the roof. All three former Magmas prepared themselves for a brawl, but only Tabitha relaxed once the shock of blue hair and obnoxiously colors revealed him.

“Brodie.”

It was deja vu.

But there was no haughty confidence in Brodie’s demeanor, no smirk spidering up his cheek or glimmer in his eyes. No, instead there was some exhausted sort of desperation, an expression of such naked honesty that each one of the former admins were struck by its strangeness. They wanted to say it was an act, but how could they ever tell?

“Tabitha,  _please_.” He was breathless. “Just talk to me. Five minutes.”

“I already said no.”

Mack exchanged a look with Courtney, their brows furrowing as they discovered their suspicions to be correct. Tabitha hadn’t just been  _babying_ them— he’d been running away, covering up his tracks like a hunted animal and hiding the game of cat and mouse from them all the while. Now, however, the scores were about to be tallied. There was no hiding this.

Despite his words, Tabitha stayed rooted to the spot, tense and distressed and grinding his teeth so forcefully that pain blossomed white behind his temple. Brodie seemed to find this heartening. The intimacy of this silent exchange would have been no less awkward if the two others had walked in on a bout of passionate sex.

“Tabitha, I’m  _sorry_ ,” Brodie began, taking a step forward. “I thought that if the Team wasn’t tying you down, we could—”

“I never asked you to do that.” Once again, Tabitha’s interjection was harsh. Final.

Like all other times, Brodie ignored it. “It was supposed to be a  _gift_ —”

Tabitha’s poor mask of indifference shattered, betrayal, anger, and an immense hurt coming to a boil. He’d spent far too long pretending his pain did not exist, ignoring it as it festered, but he was too emotional a person to last so long without exploding. “That’s one shitty ass gift, you bastard! What, are you fucking  _stupid_?” He knocked on his own head for emphasis, entire body screaming with his words. “Did you think I’d follow you out like some fairytale while everybody else burned? Who the fuck do you think I am?”

Now, it was Brodie’s turn to become angry. He was being honest, was being earnest, and that should be  _enough_ , shouldn’t it? He was saying sorry! He didn’t even think he was in the wrong! “I  _thought_  you hated Magma— you said as much, all the fucking time! You hated the grunts, and you hated your job, and you sure as hell hated your disappointment with the shithole that got nothing done you’d hoped it would. You were working for a quack!”

“You shut your damn mouth,” Mack interrupted.

Tabitha all but ignored him, practically stomping forward to get into Brodie’s face, voice strained. ”You had no right, Brodie, had no  _idea_  what Magma even was. What, did you think it was just about the  _land_? That place housed a hundred people, half of them  _kids_ with nowhere else but the streets to go, and you think you can just go in and topple that ‘cause it  _strikes your fucking fancy_?”

Brodie looked ready to protest, but Tabitha turned away, throwing up his hands. He was in hysterics. “But no, no, I get it. I was the easiest way to get to Maxie, I left myself open. I don’t even fucking blame you for that, can you believe? That was  _my bad_. But what didn’t go right, Brodie? Why’d you keep chasing me? Want to finish it, huh? Want to get some final information out of me for Archie?” He turned around, meeting Brodie’s gaze with rage in his eyes. “ _What_?”

Brodie looked on, feeling like his heart was ripping itself open. “How did you even—”

"It’s not that fucking hard to guess. Archie’s the only one who’d even bother with killing; that was never Maxie’s thing, and you never show up unless there’s money involved. Right?"

Trembling, Brodie was forced to look away, frowning hard. He didn’t think Tabitha would figure that part out. It wasn’t— “It wasn’t about Aqua. I didn’t give a shit about them. I did it for the money, yeah, but I never would have killed Maxie because Archie told me to.” He looked up, eyes still so desperate, so beseeching, but he was met only with six eyes full of hatred. He took a step back. He’d never felt so trapped, and he’d done this to himself. “It was a job at first, but—”

"But what?" Tabitha sneered. "It changed? Did you  _fall for me_?” There were tears in his eyes and Jesus, fuck, Brodie never meant for any of this to happen.

"I did. I really, honestly fucking did, Tabitha. Everything I ever said to you, everything I ever did, I did it because I fell for you and I couldn’t imagine life without you. But you’d never have gotten out of Magma alive, and you know that."

"So what?" It was Mack again, stepping up to level with Tabitha as if to stand against some mutual aggressor. Brodie knew Mack hated him, but this felt… cruel. He stared hard at the ground as the other spoke. "You toppled the only people legitimately standing against a homicidal asshole poised to drown the entirety of Hoenn. You realize this isn’t a game, right? That the world doesn’t revolve around you? We were trying to make things better, but you just cleared the path for Hoenn’s destruction. I hope you feel proud of yourself."

"That isn’t what I meant to—"

"But it’s what you did."

"Tabitha—"

"Is gone."

Brodie looked up, startled, only to find that indeed the sole occupants of the alley were Mack and himself. Courtney must have taken him away. Stomach seizing, Brodie’s expression contorted grossly, but Mack only sneered.

"You’re an idiot. We didn’t know Tabitha was running from you, but now that we do, you can be sure we won’t let it continue. We’ve got shit to do, and you’ve ruined enough."

Without quite realizing what was happening, the air spiked in temperature, smoke filling the darkness more quickly than Brodie could even think to escape. Weak and distraught, he could only fall to his knees and allow Mack to do what they did best.

Distantly, he thought he heard Courtney’s voice, stoic. “You can’t kill him. For Tabby’s sake.”

Then, cruelly: “Fine. But he’ll never remember his face, and he’ll never find him again.”

* * *

Sometimes, if Tabitha thought about it, thought about  _him_ , it burned; burned like hot coals red and smoldering from the fire, like something with enough energy left to destroy him if he let it sit for more than a moment. 

There must have been plenty of people just like him. Marks, men whom Brodie had been hired to seduce, people who were nothing more than greater pawns in a game of chess that Brodie worked so tirelessly in the shadows to undermine. It didn’t matter what side he did it for, just who gave him the most money, and it didn’t matter what he felt, if he felt anything at all. Tabitha had, though. He’d felt—  _plenty_. Enough that when he laid alone, staring into the darkness as the cold of the lonely night crept in on him like ice cold water on hollow bones, he cried to himself because he knew no one would know. He’d felt enough that when he found out the reason Brodie had been sent there all along was for no other reason than the money in Archie’s pocket, that the reason he was in Tabitha’s bed was only because he was the most vulnerable of the Magma administrators, he couldn’t even blame the thief for deceiving him so intimately. It had been all Tabitha’s fault, honestly, in letting his barriers be shattered so easily. It was all his fault in thinking that for a moment he was anything more than a tool, a commodity, that anything had changed between the years he’d paid for passage with his body and the time he’d been promoted to the top of Magma’s ranks. It was all his fault. 

It hurt so badly he often wondered if Mack’s Slugma could reach in with a molten hand and rip his heart out just like that. It hurt enough that Tabitha honestly considered that Brodie had  _stolen_  his heart, leaving him with but a shriveled and darkened cavity caving in on itself.

It burned him to know there were men and women just like him who Brodie’d laid with. It burned him to know he would by no means be the last. He didn’t give two shits about the people being manipulated— they probably deserved it, just like he did— but he cared so much that other people would ever dare to touch Brodie with the same awestruck reverence he had every night of their short, short time together.

It burned him to know he wasn’t important enough to even remember, in the end, because after all their time he could tell that the lack of recognition in Brodie’s eyes years later— caught in the act of some heist, though Tabitha could not be bothered to raise a single finger— was not some practiced act.

Only, the phantom thief really hadn’t recognized him. Even if he’d been allowed to remember the earnest expression of Tabitha’s face, he’d never expected him to weather like an ocean-corroded promontory, jagged and broken and hospitable to no one. He’d hoped his work hadn’t been so brutal as that.


End file.
